Stand Up
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Summary: Chapter One: Just as things are looking up, Clay suffers a devastating loss. Chapter Two: As Clay battles with his shattered emotions; his friends are there to help pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

Stand Up

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: Just as things are looking up, Clay suffers a devastating loss.

* * *

The ground shifted and fell away from beneath his feet without warning.

Once again, he found himself free falling into the unknown; descending fast…out of control. Only this time, he didn't feel exhilarated, or the adrenaline filled rush of air pressed against his face. No parachute weighed heavy on his back; and there was no string to pull in order to let loose the canopy… to unfurl, catch the wind and guide him safely down for a secure landing.

Instead he was twisting, turning – the fear in his gut overriding any logic. There was no safety valve to reach for, nothing sturdy to hold onto that would provide purchase – to stop this dizzying, weightless sensation.

He covered his eyes hoping to stave off the vertigo; but the darkness only served to make things worse as nausea collected in the pit of his stomach. Mouth gone dry, Clay attempted to swallow, to provide some moisture as his teeth stuck to the inside of his lips. But it was no good.

He was hollow; empty …a cavernous well of dust.

Opening his eyes, he sought out the cloudless sky – looking; searching….waiting.

This couldn't be real. It wasn't possible…was it? He was okay, he had to be okay. Brian was somewhere safe right now. There was no way a training exercise would get the better of him. No chance in hell.

He was the best, well trained, the one everybody looked to…emulated. This wasn't happening. Why was this happening?

Clay searched the heavens once again; squinted against the bright sun – so shielded his eyes against the glare. The wind picked up blowing sandy grit into his face; but he was impervious to it. He couldn't look away from the sky. Why couldn't he look away?

He had scanned the faces of his fellow trainees. Knew Brian wasn't among them. Had overheard the play by play – no canopy; down; lost. Lost? What did that mean…lost? They would find him, bring him in. He was just hurt, maybe a few broken bones…that's all.

So why was he still standing here looking up to the sky; looking for some sign? Looking for Brain, whose last words to him with that crooked smile on his face, yelling over the whir of spinning blades were, "Good luck. I'll see you on the ground."

And he, smiling back with a quick response, "I'll wait for you!" and then he leaped gleefully from the helo; out into space. Over the strong gust of wind he could hear Brian laughing at his antics…happy, full of life; alive.

What was going to happen now? What should he do? Why Brian, why him …he was the best of them? But it was going to be okay. He would wait here for him. Go in with him. That's what he would do. Wait here.

Suddenly the earth was back beneath his feet and the abruptness of it so jarring that he lost his equilibrium and dropped to his knees. He was no longer twisting, and turning; so reached down to grab hold of the ground – squeezing between his fingers jagged rocks, stones and pebbles. Taking in deep gulping breaths he hoped to steady his racing heart, but it only served to give him a floaty, surreal, out of body experience.

Wait here, wait here – he told himself; and nodded with determination. Brian would expect him to be waiting right here.

A hand fell to his shoulder, pressed hard; and he looked up into the face of Hardwick, who seemed shell shocked; his voice quivering. "We have to go Spenser. We're headed back to base."

When he looked over his shoulder, everyone had gathered up their gear and were slowly trudging toward their transport, ready to move out. Only, he couldn't move, couldn't speak; couldn't lift himself from the ground. Turning away, he studied the terrain, watched the dirt swirl around in circles and could sense the sun beginning to set.

No, he wouldn't leave. He was going to wait here for Brian. He wasn't going to leave and have him come back alone.

"Spenser, let's go." Hardwick tried again, attempting this time to pull on his shirt and lift him from the ground. Shaking his head, Clay pulled himself free from the hold; his throat constricting in pain; not allowing his voice to scream at Hardwick to fuck off, to leave him be, to tell him he was going to wait.

But Hardwick got the silent message anyway; and stepped back. Clay levied a look at the man and could see his own devastation and heartbreak staring back at him – so lifted his hand to keep him at bay; softened his features and croaked out a trembling, "no".

Nodding, Hardwick moved away – his own knees trembling, making it difficult to walk.

* * *

On the C-17; safely landed and ready to depart, Jason felt relief. They had made it back from the Sudan – everyone relatively unscathed. It was good to be home and out of harm's way.

The mission had been a success. Not only that, he had kept his temper in check and hadn't had to punch anybody. That was always a good thing.

Gathering up his gear, his mind fell on Alana and the kids. Maybe he should call, see if it was okay to stop by the house; unwind and hear how things were going. Listen to his kids talk about school; find out if Nate's house had been sold; cut the grass if Alana hadn't gotten Josiah, the kid from next door to do it.

He just wanted to sit on the porch; drink a few beers – look up and down the street and see his neighbor's walking their dogs; pushing strollers or jogging as the sun set. That's what he wanted to do. Leave the tensions of political unrest; murder and mayhem behind.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and reaching for it half thought it might be Alana beating him to the punch; asking him to come over, be with the family …even stay for the night. Instead he recognized the number of Master Chief Adam Siever, stared at the face of his phone; and with some curiosity clicked receive.

"Chief", he bellowed – walking off the transport, "What can I do for you?" and stopped in his tracks half way down the ramp; listening intently to the urgent request.

* * *

Driving out to the drop zone area, Jason had no idea what he was going to say to the kid. He wasn't good with words and his relationship with Spenser was not only brief, but also continuous to say the least. The kid's cockiness and his old man, huge barriers between them – barriers he was having a hard time looking pass.

Adam had called worried and distraught over the loss of Brian Armstrong. They had lost him on a training mission and Spenser was still out their refusing to move. "Waiting", Adam had said; "Waiting to come in with Armstrong. He's not listening to reason. It's been hours."

He was to meet Adam out there and if possible talk the kid into giving up his vigil. They had recovered Armstrong's body 800 meters northeast of the drop zone and were bringing him in. He had hit the ground at speed. Never had a chance.

Jason sucked in a quick breath – the sight of Nate filling his vision – bloody; unresponsive; gone before he could say I'm sorry, good bye, I'll watch out for your family. His loss so quick; so unexpected that he was having trouble processing it even now – months removed from the actual event.

Shaking the image loose, he found himself stopped; staring out the front window shield, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

Out in the field, there was Spenser on his knees gazing out at the vast open spaces; Adam walking toward his truck; his grief easy to see etched on his face. Wiping the sweat from the palms of his hands onto his pants legs, Jason stepped out from behind the wheel to greet the man and shook his hand; placing deep condolences in the firmness of his grip.

"I don't know if I can help you here Chief", he began; noticing the orange glow of the sun sliding down beyond the horizon. Soon it would be dark.

"Is there anyone else we can call? Me and him – not so much on friendly terms."

Adam reached in his pocket and handed over a piece of paper. "Not so friendly? That's not the way I see it Jason. That kid puts a lot of stock in you. His whole purpose is to make your team. You have more sway than you think."

Studying the piece of paper Jason raised an eyebrow – surprised at the revelation shared by the Master Chief; then moved forward to try and succeed where others had failed.

* * *

Clay could feel the presence of Jason Hayes before the man even started his approach. It cut through his grief like a knife; lifting the haze of inertia from his shoulders.

Footsteps crunched over hard earth; and suddenly where before he experienced a sense of numbing weightlessness and confusion, now he could feel every rock and pebble painfully embedded in his knees. A spike speared his heart; the pain so unbearable it brought tears to his eyes, which he swiped at quickly before they could fall.

Then Master Chief Hayes was standing beside him; staring out at the setting sun; the orange glow of it petering out, causing the temperature to drop. Shivering, Clay scrambled to his feet; regarded intently the dry encrusted dirt; nervous as to why the leader of Bravo team would be here.

After some moments of silence; and darkness descending bit by bit; Jason ventured to speak, his words careful and low. "You've been here awhile.", he stated – never averting his gaze from the picturesque scene of orange and black and yellow streaks encompassing the skyline.

Not sure he could speak, Clay nodded in the affirmative; and jammed his hands deep down into his pockets.

"I take it you're waiting for the team to bring in your friend."

Clay nodded again, and took in a shuddered breath; his resolve to remain in control of his emotions, a test he wasn't sure he would pass.

Jason nodded too, "I'll wait here with you if that's okay." ,shifting his weight one foot to another – not sure what the kid's reaction would be. After all, he barely knew him, their last encounter heated and angry. Perhaps he should call this Stella – her name and number on the paper Adam had given him. Maybe she would be better at this than he.

After a beat, Clay sighed and murmured with relief, a sincere answer of "yes" rasped painfully around the ache in his throat; an ache that throbbed with the effort to keep from weeping. He didn't have to do this alone after all.

"Okay then", Jason reiterated; and stood there in the darkness; the sun finally vanished – it's glow dissipated and faded from view ; standing shoulder to shoulder with this young man waiting to say goodbye.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please take a moment to review and let me know what you think. This is a missing scene from episode 5 'Collapse'. I hope you enjoyed this.


	2. Chapter 2

Stand Up II

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: As Clay battles with his shattered emotions; his friends are there to help pick up the pieces.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews for part one of this story. A reviewer, Reilly – wrote, "I wanted to run over and hug him." That sparked something and so I added a part two.

* * *

Stella dropped her phone and barely heard the thud as it hit the floor and took a forward bounce.

Lowering herself carefully to the sofa, she covered her mouth with shaking hands; heart beating wildly in her chest. Her breath came in sporadic hiccups as tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks. Goosebumps spontaneously erupted on her arms; and a shiver climbed up her spine…so she hugged herself to stave off the chill.

"My God" she whispered to the empty room. "My God."

Swiping at her tears vigorously, she took deep cleansing breaths. In…out; in…out…attempting to get both her mind and body under control; so she could be of some use.

The call had unnerved her. When she answered, she thought it might be Clay – saying he had returned; wanting to come over, relax and watch some television. It was something nice they did together that was peaceful. Pick a movie; eat popcorn and recline in each other's arms.

Lifting her legs up on the sofa, she grabbed hold of her knees, placed her forehead there and closed her eyes. In this moment, the phone was her enemy. She didn't want to see it. It was a harbinger of bad news; the modern telegram – that from this moment on would give her pause every time it ringed.

Instead of Clay's voice; warm, eager…teasing, it had been someone else. Someone she didn't know; someone who had scared her, unsettled her…devastated her.

That someone had introduced himself quickly as Master Chief Hayes, asking for her assistance. Clay needed her help. Brian was dead. Some sort of accident she wasn't clear on as the Master Chief's voice became a buzz of words she couldn't understand. All she did understand was that sweet Brian with the bashful smile and dorky cowboy shirt was dead. How was that even possible, when she had just seen him the night before?

Staring across the room, she blinked to blot out the image; but it wouldn't dissipate. There he was; sitting right over there in her kitchen – pulling on a beer and bull shitting with her friends. Everybody liked him…had told her so when the party broke up.

Not everyone had the same opinion of Clay…but Brian. He was easy going; and fit right in. Her roommate Carrie was impressed; was attracted to his sensitive nature, had become friendly and wanted to see him again.

She could tell he had an 'old soul', was kindhearted; and was surprisingly protective of Clay. At one point during the evening, when he had gotten her alone; he asked her all manner of probing questions.

Where was she from originally? Did she have family? What was she studying? Was she seeing anybody, if so was it serious? She remembered laughing while he interrogated her; his eyes and tone quite serious. If he hadn't been so sincere, she might have been offended.

Instead, she reached for his hand and gave an affectionate squeeze. "I won't do anything to hurt him." she had murmured. Glad to know Clay had someone in his corner.

Brian had nodded then; and a strange, knowing smile appeared - as if he had figured out something and was pleased.

Stella rubbed at her eyes, Brian stood up – and the vision of him here in her home vanished. Pushing aside those memories, she grabbed the sofa pillow and embraced it as if it were a buoy, and her life depended on it.

"Clay needs your help", he had said. "He's not in a good way; and shouldn't be alone." Master Chief Hayes sounded grave; anxious and worried. "Can you help?", he asked. "Can I bring him by?"

Tears welled up again, so she angrily pressed down on her lids to make them stop; to stem the flow before they let loose and drowned her.

"Yes, yes…of course.", she had answered without hesitation. The phone burned a hole through the palm of her hand, so she hung up and dropped it to the floor. Burying her face into the pillow, she sat still as a statue and let the silence wash over her. Clay would be here soon.

Clay needed her help. But she needed help too.

This was so out of her realm of experience. She had never known anyone to die before so suddenly; so young – who she had just spoken to mere hours before.

What could she possibly say or do to comfort him? How could she help when in the back of her mind she was grateful? Devastated that Brain was dead, but grateful it wasn't Clay. Heat crawled its way up her neck, and then flushed her cheeks. A sense of shame swept over her. How could she be thinking of such a thing?

Somewhere tonight, Brian's parents; his family and friends, including Clay were grieving, while she sat here, yes…stunned; overwhelmed; remorseful. And yet, she had the luxury of relief.

It could have been Clay. The phone call could have been Master Chief Hayes telling her that Clay was dead. It could have been her on the other side. Her receiving notice that the man she had only met a few months ago was lost to her. The man who definitely knew how to make her laugh, who won over her skepticism; who she could easily fall for…commit to – was dead.

Stella stood swiftly from her perch and stalked the room; pacing back and forth on legs that trembled, threatening to collapse beneath her, give way and bring her down.

She needed to get herself together.

No matter what she was thinking; what hid in the shadows at the back of her mind; how hurt she herself was – she needed to press it down. Be there for Clay. Be ready when he came to the door.

* * *

It was painfully quiet in the cab of the truck; and the road leading to Stella's place surprisingly free of traffic. Every light showed green, so he drove slowly hoping the unhurried pace would provide some measure of calm.

Jason stole a quick glance at the kid and could tell he was barely holding it together.

Earlier they had greeted the team at the drop zone; and then followed close behind the transport with Brian on board to the base. Together they had waited outside the morgue; seated side by side in hard unforgiving chairs. The rest of Green Team appeared bit by bit – each taking a seat; their eyes bruised with dark circles and faces ashen.

Master Chief Siever came to wait also; and gave solemn words of condolence; but Jason could tell that Spenser wasn't listening. The kid never flinched; or acknowledged that they were even there. Only sat silent, with his elbows resting on his knees; his face a mask of weariness.

When given the opportunity to go in and say his goodbyes, he stood on unsteady legs; head bowed and shoulders hunched. As the rest of the team filed in, he waited at the door and seemed uncertain. So he stood too.

"I'll wait here for you", he offered. "When you come out, I'll be right here."

So he had taken that moment to call Stella. When he imparted the news, he could feel her shock through the phone. But she had said, "Yes" to his request. Clay needed her help and she had said yes.

And now that they were on the way, the oppressive silence was too much for him. The urge to say something, do something came over him. A flash of Nate hit him hard; and he gripped the steering wheel. He understood this level of grief; and recognized himself in Spenser's closed off nature.

Knowing how he kept Nate's death suppressed; unable to talk about him; recall with fondness the good times – how much he loved him; but could not share his grief ate at him every day and eroded something inside him.

That's not the way it should be. Unhealthy, the therapist called it.

So he ventured into uncharted territory. "Tell me about him", he whispered and could sense the kid tense up next to him; and look out the passenger window to hide his face. They drove on for a good mile or two before Spenser cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"Um", he began – swallowing hard; and looking up to prevent unshed tears from falling.

Silence descended, but Jason rode on, waiting – careful not to push; and up ahead could see Stella's apartment building. Gliding into the lot, he parked beneath a street light and turned to face the kid – who kept his attention peeled to the ceiling of the cab; determined not to shed a tear.

"Um" Clay continued, his voice quivering. "He was my friend. He was my best friend, and I loved him."

At that moment, on the balcony – a door opened; and they both looked to see light spilling out; a young woman standing within its glow….sending a slight wave to greet them. Removing his seatbelt and reaching for the door Spenser finally looked in his direction and nodded.

"That's Stella", he said softly. "I'd better go."

Stepping out the truck; he shut the door behind him, but did not move to meet her.

Jason lowered the passenger window and studied the kid carefully. Glad he was willing to open up but afraid too. "It's going to be okay", he said with conviction. Afraid to say the wrong thing; but compelled to say something.

Clay turned to him and gazed back with such trust; with such belief that his heart stopped for the briefest of moments. Steeling his emotions; keeping his face neutral he encouraged, "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."

Clay nodded his thanks and a quick smile ghosted his lips as he turned away.

Sitting behind the wheel, under the street lights; Jason watched as the kid raced up the stairs in haste – two at a time. And through the open door could see Stella reach for him; grab hold – her arms around his neck and whisper words he could not hear from his vantage point.

But once said, Clay yielded to her compassionate kiss on the cheek; leaned heavily into her embrace and surrendered.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Part II. Please leave a review to let me know what you think.

And thank you to everyone who read; reviewed; favorited; and clicked follow for Part I of 'Stand Up'. Your comments mean so much!


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